Park benches.

A thousand miles away;

perhaps in contemplation
of the son you left behind,
you are playing your guitar.

Even above the gusted November

wind that chills to the bone,

I can hear the melody; 

as can the red/gold tinted leaves 

that dance in skittish

attendance at my feet, 

lost as I am to your beautiful music.

Time slips, clouds close in

and I gather my coat, watching 

the green painted swing as it 

sways creakily back and forth;

and I wonder if it hears the music,

or is simply keeping in practice

for the coming spring and the

fondly remembered laughter 

of a child at play.

Soon then, the wind stills

and the slenderness of my arms

are like the rusted chains on the swing,

strong enough only for measured burden;

and the distance between us,

though counted in miles,

might as well be the far side of the moon,

although love, like laughter, only ever fades.   

Reviews

[h d e rushin]

the last stanza here is as important as any love poem can conger or imagine. And there is that
irresistible promise that surrenders to separation and thusly submits meekly and adjectively
to disappointment. When you write a poem Beccy, all the assertions implied by the speaker
are true even when poetry itself (the art of it) asserts that blessed modicum of trivial
untruth. But we never doubt you and in the end, cry when you cry.

You write poetry like an unearthed, liberated lady of a different century, only this time
breached of etiquette and propriety and allowed bravely to tell the story of heartache
without being trivialized. This is as good as modern love poetry gets..

thanks for sharing it with us.....dana

[Cyd]

Poetry not being my thing but I could hear the creaky swing and I did see pictures in my mind. They didn’t link up like a movie, it was like looking through a photo album.

[Mark]

November is a good time for melancholy. Love and laughter do fade, I suppose that might be a good reason to make more. :)

[Carolynn]

This is stunning - I love the line about the leaves dancing in skittish attendance at your feet - it sounds like much more than a son was left behind here, but the sadness is penned so beautifully!

[Paul Bell]

Simply superb. Don't know if he's a thousand miles away, and never coming back. But like the park bench and the swing, got a feeling you'll be waiting.

[Coyote Poetry]

Amazing poetry. I had to read a few times. You took me to many places ad good thoughts.
"though counted in miles,
might as well be the far side of the moon,
although love, like laughter, only ever fades. "
I liked how you took the reader to a very good ending. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Neville]

This is simply beautiful, enough said, N

[An owl on the moon]

Bittersweet tones seem to haunt your thoughts... such a sad separation... though the music hovers in a state of joy on your memories. This is truly so profoundly moving...

[ANTO]

"...only ever fades." - ahh what a sublime coda in this wonderful song of yearning and loving recollection. The personification of the swing and the analogy of it to the speaker is masterful writing Beccy.
Park benches really do infuse us with melancholy as if they are constructed from memories and painted with nostalgia.
Excellent writing dear Beccy.

[emmajoy]

' Time slips,.. .. and I wonder if it hears the music,'

Tis not merely the pen on paper or the tapping fingers that write your words, Beccy, but your beautiful heart and gentle spirit. This full of everything poem has made me sigh a little sadness then smile and.. more.

[James O'Rourke]

I think this may be a favorite piece for me.

The imagery created by your words and the emotion that is evoked is palpable. The last stanza just really stands out for me and drives the whole thing home.

Thanks for sharing your words and I can't wait to read more! - James